


Undercover

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Just for fun





	

The regulars at the Rock-on-komo Klub witnessed the assault but not one would talk to the police. The case was getting cold. Joan, after emphatically stating her reservations and arguing about ethics and triggers, succumbed and agreed to Sherlock's plan. 

Dressed in a skin tight black dress with a neckline that plunged almost to her waistline and wearing as much, if not more, eye makeup than she'd worn to that Ozzie concert in her teens, she stirred her drink and waited. A group of ladies, assessing their potential customers, sat at the other end of the bar; seemingly engrossed in their pouting and preening, they paid her little attention. Her bracelets jangled as she flipped her stick-straight hair back over her shoulder and observed the men in the far corner. Joan wasn't sure if she was relieved or insulted by their lack of interest in her.

Someone dropped coins into the jukebox, and Joan Jett started wailing, "I love rock 'n roll..." Her head lightly bopped to the music as she took a sip from her drink and scanned the room.

His timing was impecable. The music pounded and the lyrics proclaimed, "... he was with me, yeah me ..." as Sherlock walked into the club. Joan tried her best not to giggle at the sight of him.

Clean shaven, hair grown back enough to be combed down into that 'little boy just back from the barber' look and wearing a tweed suit with a bow tie, Sherlock caught the suspicious eye of every deadhead and wannabe hippy in the place. He walked up to the bar and sat a few seats down from her. Joan glanced at him. She would never tell him but those horn-rimmed glasses of his were quite attractive on him; imbued him with an air of innocence, a sweetness that she knew resided in that acerbic partner of hers but few others did. The ladies at the other side of the bar shifted their attentions towards him. 

He avoided looking at Joan or them and ordered a ginger ale. The bartender gave him a judgmental once over, sizing him up as some prissy Brit who'd obviously wandered in by mistake. He plunked the glass of ginger ale before him.

"Thank you. Kind of quiet in here for a Friday night, hmm?" Sherlock smiled politely and waited for a reply.

A "Yup" and a hard stare were the only response he got. Joan saw this as her cue.

"They had some guy almost get killed in here a couple of nights ago." She picked up her drink and moved over to Sherlock. "Alright if I join you?" 

Joan moved, her dress moved, and from where he was sitting, he saw more of his partner than he'd seen since that snake in the shower incident. Well, no come to think of it he'd seen a lot more of her then... He quickly blinked a few times and with a forced attempt at distaste looked away. 

"I suppose." He sighed. "I am awaiting friends so please do not get too comfortable."

Joan looked at the bartender and rolled her eyes. She talked to him instead of Sherlock, "Saw it on the news. Guys half dead, in a coma or something. Did you see it?"

The bartender, suspiciously eyed her, before answering, "Yeah... what's it to you?"

Joan threw him her most dazzling smile and leaned closer against the bar. "Just wondering. I have a thing for watching people get hurt ... kind of turns me on ..." She purred and her smile moved from dazzling to seductive. 

It was all Sherlock could do to keep his mouth shut. He had to shoo out the dozen or so fantasies that suddenly popped into his head in order to maintain his composure. 

She had the same effect on the barkeeper. "Yeah?" He leaned on his elbow, "Two of the regulars really got into it. Blood everywhere ..."

Sherlock's jacket pocket vibrated and he pulled out his phone. Joan squinted at him, now was really not the time to take calls.

"Ah!" He spoke at the text message and removed his faux glasses. He turned to her, his more authoritative manner now in evidence, "Come Watson. It appears our victim has awakened from his coma and identified his abuser."

It only took Joan a beat to straighten up and arrange her clothing into something more suitable for her personality. She looked back at the befuddled bartender, "Thank you for your help." Placing a twenty on the bar, Joan made her way to the door Sherlock held open for her.


End file.
